"Dat chile no gib de alarm, sah. Can go on now and cut him window."
The carpenter and the man told off to assist him at once ran forward, accompanied by the girl and Nat, who went straight to the little window. He had told her that she must not speak, for her mother or sister might utter a sudden exclamation which would alarm the sentries on the other side. Putting his face to the window, he said in a low voice, "I pray you be silent, the slightest sound might cost you your lives. We are here to rescue you; your daughter is safe and sound with us. Now we are going to enlarge the window." Low exclamations of delight told him that he was heard.
The carpenter at once set to work, the man with him oiling his saw very frequently; nevertheless it seemed to Nat to make even more noise than usual. Suddenly, however, one of the prisoners began to utter a prayer in a loud voice.
"That is papa," the girl whispered; "he used to say prayers every night."
"It was a very good idea to begin now," Nat said. "What with the row by the fires, and his voice inside, the guard are not likely to hear the saw."
In ten minutes the window had been enlarged to a point sufficient for a full-sized person to get through.
"Now, madam, will you come first," Nat said. "We will pull you through all right."
One by one the captives were got out. There were still two men left when the door opened, and three or four negroes appeared with blazing brands.
"We have come to fetch one of you out to give us a lillie fun. Bake 'im some ober de fire."
Then he broke off with a shout of astonishment as he saw that the hut was almost untenanted, and he and the others were about to rush forward at the two men still there when Nat thrust his arm through the opening. Two shots cracked out, one after the other. The two leading negroes fell, and the others with a yell of terror rushed out of the hut.